


Terminal

by Duckgomery



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fearling!Jack, I need to actually put more effort into these tags, Implied JackxPitch, Jack's a clever little shit when he wants to be, Maybe - Freeform, Other, famished, idk - Freeform, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckgomery/pseuds/Duckgomery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts and ends with a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terminal

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this on and off for a few weeks now, between assignments, work on other fics, and stuff.
> 
> Not quite how I wanted it to be in the end, but eventually I just got to the stage where I just wanted this done.
> 
> Enjoy.

 

               It was only a snap, like the breaking of a twig, but it shot through the once raging skirmish, now on pause, as the body plummeted.

               They watched with wide eyed horror as the boy, Jack, flopped about like a doll as the wind tried to tug him, encourage him to ride on its back like he always did.

               Nothing.

               Tooth darted over as fast as she could, taking as much of the slight weight as she could before the sleigh hovered beneath them.

               Blue eyes looked up at the worried faces, frozen over. Jack’s body shuddered, lungs catching, and he blinked, eyes clearing momentarily before freezing over once more.

               The process repeated.

               “What’s wrong, shouldn’t he be healing? It’s never taken this long,” Bunny frets; restricted in his pacing by the jerky movements of the flying contraption. He settles for his vice grip in the wooden railing.

               A new paint job was in order.

               Tooth combed her fingers through the stark white hair with one hand, Jack’s head resting in her lap and held in place with the other.

               “We’ll worry ‘bout that later. Get him somewhere safe know, that’s most important,” North calls back, eyes fixed forward. His knuckles are white as he holds onto the reigns, steering the reindeer with a new driving force.

               Sandy provides cover from the dwindling ranks of nightmares, but the sudden decline in numbers more or less goes unnoticed.

               So does the disappearance of their ringleader.

 

               was dark and he was scared. Floating in the nothingness, Jack realised he hadn’t felt as alone in the past three hundred years as he did at this moment.

               He remembered fighting Pitch, far above the rest of the Guardians who were busy dealing with the massive herd of nightmares that had been running rampant towards a small country town.

               He’d been dodging, taunting, twisting, and returning each strike Pitch made with one of his own.

               Something wasn’t right though.

               Whenever it came to blows in the past, both parties would be worn down to panting from the exertion soon enough.

               This latest encounter though, it was as if Pitch had calculated everything. As if he was just going through the motions.

               Jack hadn’t liked the glint of satisfaction twinkling in the Nightmare King’s eyes, not one bit.

               He remembered charging forward, with reckless abandon as he always did when going in for the kill, but then…

               The ground was coming to meet him.

               Blank.

               He was being buffeted around by the wind as it pulled at him, trying to coax him to alertness, to respond.

               Blank.

               Did Tooth catch him? He’d slowed down a bit anyway.

               Blank.

               Everything was rocking, the stars seemed brighter than ever. Questions were being thrown about but the words just wouldn’t connect.

               Blank.

               Worried eyes looked down at him, mouths moving in his line of site, though the sounds fell on deaf ears.

               Blank.

               A flash of light that stung ever so slightly.

               Blank.

               He was being jostled, lifted up. His vision was filled with red fabric.

               Black.

               Hands flew to his neck. Everything seemed fine but he couldn’t get his breathing under control.

               Jack felt something brush the tears trailing down his cheeks away. Despite the terror of knowing something was out there, maybe only inches away from him, he felt safer in the fact that he wasn’t alone anymore.

 

                Jack blinks the frost from his eyes and realises he’s being pushed back down.

                “Easy, Frostbite, take it easy now.”

                He didn’t want to take it easy, he had questions.

                Why was it bright?

                Was it always this bright?

                “Jack, you with me? Come on, mate, you have to give me something. Come on,” Bunny sounded tired, and looked it to.

                A glimmer of gold out of the corner of his eye disappeared, Jack guessed that that was Sandy, going to get the others.

                Why was he being held down?

                Bunny hisses and Jack sees the ice working up the pooka’s arm from where he’s touching him.

                He sees more than feels his arms raise up and try and push Bunny away, though he doesn’t relent. Instead, Bunny pushes down harder, if the set of his shoulders were anything to go by.

                “I need a little help in here!” He turns his head to the side, so that’s where the door is.

                Both his and Bunny’s breaths are misting before them.

                Jack feels a spike of something shoot through him. Raw, cold, biting, all in a new, heightened intensity.

                Where was his staff?

                He needed his staff.

                Couldn’t Bunny see that?

                Giant hands with black ink adorned on the forearms filled his vision, clamping down and prying his pounding fists away from Bunny’s chest.

                Roaring filled his head and Jack screwed his eyes shut in hopes that it would diminish.

                He couldn’t move, why couldn’t he move, why won’t they let him move.

                The surge flashed through again and it felt as if his very foundations shook.

                He tasted cold metal.

                The light inside was too bright, too bright, even with his eyes shut. It was coming from inside, no escape, where was his staff? Where was his staff? Where was his staff!?

                He struggled with new force against the weights pushing down, pinning him.

                Why, why, why!?

                The room is coated in white and shards.

                The four Guardians surrounding him are shivering.

                The wave of energy crashes through him again, and their eyes look hurt.

                Sad.

                Sandy takes advantage of his momentary exhaustion to hit him in the face with some of his dream sand.

                It burns.

                Why does it hurt so much?

                The wave builds up as if to counter the pain.

                Flash of white.

                Crack.

               

                A warm, dry wind rustled his hair and then it’s not as dark as it was before.

                Rather than the ever expanding feel that the utter nothingness of before held, it was more of a gloom that hung over the space.

                Shapes could be made out as vague silhouettes, blurry from both the distance and the lack of decent lighting.

                Better than before though.

                Much better.

                The shapes became harder to make out, getting smaller and smaller.

                The wind blew hotter.

                Hands wrapped around his head from behind, cradling it as they both feel.

                Jack could feel the tips of nails press into his scalp. What should have been an expression of power, the gesture seemed to comfort, grounding Jack.

                He wasn’t alone.

                They were there.

                _Time to wake up._

_There’s nothing to be scared of._

_I’m here to help you, protect you._

_You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours._

                _Look under the bed._

_Wake up, Jack._

                ”Jack, Jack! Wake up now, come on. Please?”

                There’s a hand squeezing his. It’s small, tiny almost. He can feel the bones, those delicate, hollow bones, shift as they clench over and over.

                He’s greeted by the sight of the muted cacophony of colours that usually paints North’s workshop.

                So he’s in one of the guest rooms. Judging by the sparse decorations to the room, it’s one of the more outlying ones.

                Interesting.

                Tooth chirps and flutters about, giving orders to the small cloud of fairies that are never far from her. Three of them detach from the group and zip out of sight.

                She dives back towards him, filling his vision with too bright colours.

                “How are you feeling? Are you alright? Do you need anything? You had us worried, Jack. You look cold, do you need a blanket, oh, wait, that’s normal for you, isn’t it? Are you cold enough? Should I open a window? Are you okay?”

                She was loud, and bright, both of which were teetering on the thinning line of overwhelming.

                Jack tried to lift his hand, tell her to slow down, keep quiet, but was met with resistance.

                Stretching his neck, he identified the obstruction.

                Why was he restrained?

                What was the meaning of this?

                Breath coming out hard from his nose, Jack begins to trash.

                Get them off.

                Let me go.

                Don’t.

                Tooth pats his face with her too small hands, trying to calm him.

                She backs off when their breath starts to become visible in the hastily dropping temperature.

                “He was fine for a minute, but then he…”

                “It’s fine, Tooth. I’ll see what I can do.”

                Heavy footsteps come towards him.

                “Jack, do you know where you are?”

                “The Pole.” His voice is a surprise to himself. While it didn’t hurt to speak, it sounded like it was caught on something that had done its best to claw out.

                “That’s right, Jack. Now, do you remember what happened?”

                Jack laughs, a short, sharp sound.

                “There was a fight, I got hit, and here I am.” He jostles the cuffs that bind his wrists down for effect.

                “Do you remember anything else?” All formalities were gone, replaced instead with a glum curiosity.

                “Does it really matter, because I have a killer case of pins and needles in my arms right now, and this interrogation is doing nothing to help that.”

                He really shouldn’t have snapped like that, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was desperate to not be pinned down like a butterfly.

                With a sigh, whose fondness seemed somewhat forced, North leant over Jack’s unwillingly prone form and undid the clasps of the hard leather binds.

                Jack took the new found freedom to pull himself up and inwards, knees barring his near raw wrists from any further abuse.

                Nothing was said between any of the room’s occupants, though the constant buzzing of Tooth’s wings kept it from being completely silent.

                Definitely one of the more isolated rooms, if even the constant hum drum that was associated with the workshop failed to penetrate it.

                The window was too small for even Jack to squeeze his near wisp like frame through.

                “So I hear Frostbite’s awake,” Bunny hurries through the door, his panting barely noticeable.

                The snowballing tension subsides.

                Jack rubs at his face free of the dream sand that still persists in clinging there. It’s a momentary relief, like picking out splinters. He’d have to find a reflective surface to assess the damage but from the feel of it, there is a rash at the least.

                “As fun as this all is, and believe me, I know my fun, can I leave? This room at the least. It’s suffocating.”

                No escape.

                No way out.

                Nothing but the door, with three bodies in the way.

                “Sure, let’s take this to lounge, yes? Drinks and cookies, much more comfortable,” North decides for the lot of them. Jack’s more than happy to throw a quick smile in affirmation which only doubles the force of North’s jolly charade.

                The other two don’t see through it though.

                It was hard to spot, but there was a certain scent, he could almost taste it. Something underneath all those layers that showed Jack what was really there.

                It was intoxicating.

                “I’ll meet you there in a minute, need to work the feeling back into everything.”

                North looked back from the doorframe, the last one to leave the room.

                “Don’t take too long or I send yetis,” he warned.

                Jack waved him off, throwing both legs over the edge of the bed.

                Coast now clear, Jack’s curiosity got the better of him, all but lunging to the dark confines beneath the bed.

                There, pushed to the centre of the sparse space, was his staff.

                Pulling it out, his fingers traced along the age old ridges and whorls that littered its surface. Frost trailed across all he touched, spreading out and re-establishing itself across the surface.

                Something felt different about it, but in a good way.

                Any previous aches and pains he had all but vanished smoothed over by the energy flowing through the staff and into him.

                There was a new cold settling into his bones, as if they were bathed in the darkest hour of the night.

                He felt invincible.

                Shepard’s Crook balanced on one shoulder, Jack walked through the hallways.

                Unfamiliar as these ones in particular were, the same scent from before still hung in the air, leaving a trail to where the others were congregating.

               

                _You learn fast, I’m impressed._

                Jack revelled in those words, along with the accompanying hand brushing through his hair. Much too soon it stopped this action, moving instead to cup Jack’s cheek. He nuzzled into it, desperate for the comfort, the praise, the love that came from such a gesture.

                _You still have a way to go, but I’m sure that if anyone can get there, it’ll be you._

_You’ll be stunning._

                And that was the moment Jack fell utterly, impossibly in love with the voice and the promises it never quite said. He’d do anything for it, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

 

                Next thing he knew, Jack was standing in the far entrance to what North dubbed ‘The Lounge’. It was a cosy room by the Guardian of Wonder’s definition. With more than enough seating to keep a small army comfortable, but then again, that’s what North’s workforce doubled up as.

                The four Guardians sat in the cluster of seats closest to the hearth of the great fireplace that was casting deep, flickering shadows across the room.

                As they brushed over his face, the resemblance between them and the touches from the dark place was enough to send his eyes fluttering.

                Following their movements and guiding nudges, Jack remained in the shadows, slowly dancing, feet near gliding in their silence, towards the others.

                His breaths steadied out as he felt a rise all around him. Smirking to himself, he focused on the fluctuation of the scent that was now bursting at North’s seams. Beginning to recognise a pattern to it, Jack waited for it to crest from his shaded position.

                “Does he seem alright to you? He hasn’t said much.” Tooth doesn’t look up from the large mug resting on top of her thighs.

                “Don’t blame the kid, with the way he was screaming the other day,” Bunny tosses his drink back with more vigour than you would of something free of alcohol. “Gotta hate it when a healing goes bad. Nasty stuff.” His fur quivers at the memory.

                “He’s been awhile. Maybe one of us should have stayed with him? He could be lost.”

                “I don’t think that would’ve been a good idea, Tooth. Jack needed some time for him, though if he takes much longer I’ll send yeti.” The mountain of a man reaches over to the platter sitting at the middle of a bowing coffee table, pulling a sugar cookie from the side.

                Sandy picked up the large, but half empty, pitcher of eggnog, and poured himself another glass. He resumed starring at the dancing light of the fire, expression unreadable.

                His steps in time with the pops and crackle of the fire, Jack takes his spot in one of the empty chairs within the circle.

                “Didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

                No one jumps more than North at the sudden statement, and Jack can’t help but smile, teeth barred.

                It was so delicious, whatever it was, and he’d felt it from all of them.

                But North’s…

                It was the icing on the cake.

                “Ah, Jack, what kept you? Go on, have a bite, you must be hungry.”

                He gestures to the cookies, perched precariously atop each other.

                “Don’t mind if I do, I’m famished,” Jack replies with a grin.

                Nervous glances are exchanged when they think he can’t see them, but Jack could really care less.

                “Thanks for leaving my staff with me. It’s good to know that you guys didn’t leave it behind.”

                The feeling that fell over the room made the food on his tongue taste like dust.

                Jack continues to eat and smile in their growing discomfort and guilt.

 

                When he returns to the dark, a humming fills the air.

                It’s a different atmosphere than before, though that’s not saying that it’s bad.

                It’s warm, but not uncomfortable for Jack.

                Relaxing back into the weight set behind him, he opens himself up to whatever the presence desires.

                Unseen fingers card through his hair.

                The humming that rattles its chest and shakes right through to Jack’s core takes on the rhythm of a lullaby who’s name and everything to do with it seem to just escape Jack.

                But he feels safe.

                He feels loved.

                Cherished.

                He doesn’t want it to ever, ever end.

 

                He leaves the workshop soon enough, feeling smothered by the concerned and anxious glances and whispers being exchanged behind his back.

                May as well give them space to gossip and fret.

                Don’t they have jobs to do?

                Kids to protect?

                At least he had his priorities in check.

                Flying across the bleak landscape, Jack feels a calm settle over him.

                He can breathe.

                He is free.

                And it’s as dark as the planet’s surface can be, what with a thick layer of clouds, ripe with ready-to-fall snow, blocking out the meagre light offered by the slim crescent moon hanging above the earth.

                A few more nights and it’ll be gone.

                The wind is livelier than ever, throwing him about with enough force that the world blurs on by.

                Jack wonders why he’s never tried to go this fast before.

                It’s so fun!

                With a cheer, he allows himself to plummet, feeling in his bones that he’s close.

                There’s no place like home.

 

                It feels like cobblestones beneath his feet, as he treads slowly through the opening labyrinth of corridors.

                Despite it being nothing but gloom and dark, he no longer feels alone.

                The shadows that swarm over every available surface brush him as he passes, the braver ones daring to even mess with his hair and pull on his hoodie.

                It’s almost endearing.

                Though no-one else is visible, Jack can feel that they are ahead.

                If he keeps on walking, following what inside tells him is the right twist and turns, Jack knows he’ll find them.

                Sometimes you need to work hard for what you truly want.

                Neither wants to be alone anymore.

 

                When Jack pulls himself from the dark, he feels as if he’s burning.

                The cold light of morning shines down through the branches clustered above, but it’s enough to make him recoil into the deepest shade he can find.

                He pulls his hood down as far as it’ll go.

                Shaky hands that were never properly grown into grasp the staff closer, a barrier to ward off the pain.

                As the minutes tick on, his cover recedes.

                Jack begins to panic.

                He doesn’t want to hurt.

                He doesn’t want to be trapped.

                He needs to get out.

                Escape before it’s too late.

                He tucks his feet in tight, just in time, as the light trickles into where his toes were moments before.

                Desperate times called for desperate measures.

 

                Warm arms circled him, and Jack rests his head on the chest that was simply there.

                It was firm.

                It was safe.

                It belonged to them.

                Jack could never hate anything that was them.

                They were everything to him.

                They loved him.

                They’d never leave him.

                He’d never be alone again.

                _You’ll always have us, Jack._

_What goes better together than cold and dark?_

                He’d be ready soon.

                Soon he’ll be worthy to see part of their world.

 

                “What happened, Jack?”

                “What do you mean, squirt?”

                Jamie has the decency to look annoyed at the comment, especially since he’s catching up in the height department to Jack.

                He pulls open his window fully, letting the tangle of limbs tumble in, along with a decent amount of snow and cold.

                It was a real blizzard they had on their hands.

                “Your face. Were you and the rest of the Guardians fighting Pitch again? What’s he up to this time?”

                Jamie retires to his previously occupied swivel chair, spinning around lazily, tracking Jack’s usual proximity check of the room.

                He wonders if all spirits were this paranoid, or if it was just Jack?

                It seemed more frantic than before.

                “Really? Didn’t think it’d be that bad? Just got some sand to the face, stung pretty bad. Does it look cool? I can live with it if it looks cool.”

                Jack settles on the very edge of the bed, rocking from his toes to his heels and back again.

                “It looks fine, just different. Maybe you should get it checked, just to be safe.”

                “But does it look cool?”

                “No one is cooler than you.”

                “Damn straight.”

 

                He wonders why he ever thought there was nothing in this place.

                There were arches, and walkways.

                Stairs and balconies.

                Even cages littering the ceiling, rattling against each other in a way that was welcoming.

                And in the centre of all this, a hollowed out globe.

                Its lights twinkled cruelly.

                Mocking.

                But that didn’t matter.

                Not know.

                He had to get to what was behind the globe, visible through its rusted spaces.

                He had to get to the throne.

                He had to bow down at their feet.

                And give himself over.

                Because if he did, he wouldn’t have to be scared.

                Or lonely.

                Not anymore.

 

                This storm he was conducting had to be his finest piece in all his three hundred plus years.

                It kept the light away, so he didn’t have to worry about hurting.

                Snow was his element, he always felt more comfortable, more at home in it. He’d never felt more at ease in his waking moments as he did now, with it flying about him and coating everything.

                The streets were no longer possible to navigate under the ever-growing layers of snow.

                The shadows flew about and danced with him across the sky.

                The streetlights that were still fighting, creating halos for them.

                But the best thing about this storm had to be the taste of it.

                The scent that he’d first caught whiff of at the Pole had either grown, or he’d attributed it to something else.

                But as he slipped through the streets void of life, he passed house after house where the sweet, sweet taste came from.

                That’s why they had to stay in there.

                It wouldn’t do them any good to be getting away.

                He had to have something to offer them after all.

                Such delicacies would be wasted on someone like him.

                A feast like this was fit for a king.

 

                He ran across the walkways, eating up distance but never getting closer.

                He tried to shout out, get their attention, but he was still too far away.

                Maybe the shadows could help him.

                Following the pull of them, Jack found himself plunging down into the dark, only to appear at another point of the twisting maze mere moments later.

                Now this was a way to travel.

 

                When the Guardians arrived at the scene, they didn’t know what to expect, but this, this was beyond prediction.

                Having been tipped off by Sandy about a growing area of bad weather that denied the access of his dream sand, they set off at full speed.

                Finding the storm was one thing, getting through it was another matter entirely.

                The sleigh crashed to the ground, the reindeer in a panic, at the eye of the storm, what should’ve been relatively calm and easy to get inside.

                This wasn’t a natural blizzard.

                “As much as splitting up would be good, cover more ground, I think it best to stay together. Safety in numbers. We don’t know what’s out there.”

                Bunny surveys the surrounding wind and white, shivering.

                “Do you think…?”

                “We don’t know what’s out there. Come on, let’s get moving.”

                North leads the way, lowing through the waist-high snow and inadvertently creating a path for the others.

                Pitch watches this all from the shadows, taking delight in the discomfort and unease rolling off his foes. Though the underlying fear, all of them having an inkling on the origins of this beautiful hybrid of cold, wind, and dark.

                It was delicious.

 

                He no longer sunk into them, having perfected the maneuver so he simply slipped from one patch to the other, movement’s fluid.

                He was almost to the central landing.

                Wouldn’t be much longer now.

 

                “Jack, you need to stop this!” Jamie pleads, having snuck out of the house to try and reason with the winter spirit.

                Jack tosses his head back and laughs.

                The angle is un-natural and the tone sends more shivers down Jamie’s spine than the cold.

                Something isn’t right.

                “Why should I stop, I’m having so much fun.”

                “This isn’t fun, Jack. It hasn’t been fun for days.”

                “Who said anything about you having fun?”

                The wind picks up, and Jack disappears from sight.

                His laughter remains, darting around on the winds.

 

                The globe stands ahead, and Jack pauses to take a closer look, curiosity getting the better of him.

                The bright lights flickered from locations that mirrored that of major settlements, though his eyes were drawn to a cluster, flashing dangerously from the northern states of America.

                Whatever was affecting them was getting bigger, as more and more lights got caught in the chaotic, pulsing rhythm.

 

                “Jamie? What are you doing out in this?”

                The guardians stop as Jamie runs over to them.

                “It’s Jack, something is wrong with him.”

                “What happened? How long has this been going on?”

                Bunny pulls Jamie closer towards him, offering himself as a wind break.

                The boy had stopped shivering.

                “He turned up about a week ago, he does this sometimes, but he was a bit off. Avoided questions. Something was up with his eyes, looked like burn marks around them. It started cloudy, with just a bit of snow, but it just kept on getting bigger and bigger. It hasn’t stopped. What’s wrong with him?”

                “Yeah guys, what’s wrong with little old me?”

                The group freezes.

                Sandy is the first to react, the cold not affecting him as much as his comrades and throws out one of his whips.

                “Nice try, but you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

                And Jack just disappears.

                Old tactics re-surfacing, the group forms a circle, back to one another with Jamie at the centre.

                “Oh, this is boring, how about we make things a little more fun?”

                The voice floats around them though its owner is nowhere to be found.

                The wind picks up, pulling at them, as if trying to warn them, before it’s cut out.

                Now there’s nothing but silence.

                And dark.

                And cold.

                “Oh, just look at you. How pathetic.”

                Pitch glides out from behind a building, hands clasp behind his back.

                “To think that this is what a fledgling has reduced you to, but then again, you’ve always underestimated him, haven’t you?”

                “What are you doing here, Pitch?” North rumbles.

                “Yeah, this doesn’t concern you.”

                A chuckle.

                “Oh, but it does. Haven’t you put two and two together yet? No? How pitiful.”

                He vanishes into another patch of shadows before re-appearing far too close for comfort.

                Sandy moves to incapacitate him, but instead of Pitch moving to evade the attack, he simply tuts them.

                “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

                And they become aware of the ice that has slowly and steadily been working its way up their legs, fixing them in place.

                It felt no colder than the surrounding air, but there was something about it that didn’t seem natural.

                Sandy’s bonds seemed to speed up its consumption to warn them of the consequence of any actions they may take.

                “Now that we’re all comfortable, let’s get to answering that other question you threw my way, shall we? Why am I here? Well, that’s simple enough. I’m here to simply get what’s mine, though I’ve been taking my time. Seems like someone prepared a feast for me after all, which was so kind of you, Jack.”

                Jack jumps out of the shadows lurking nearby, all but falling over himself to get to Pitch.

                “He’s such a good boy. Always eager to please.”

                Pitch runs his fingers under the hood, through course, white hair, and Jack all but melts into the touch.

                The wind, in a last ditch effort to help, blows hard enough to knock back Jack’s hood. Leaving the damage for all to see.

                The sand that Sandy had tried to use what seemed like months ago that had such an adverse reaction to Jack had left black scorch marks around his eyes.

                Black had wound its way down from the back of Jack’s head and was working its way around his throat. A steadily spreading bruise.

                And his skin.

                It had the grey quality shared by both Pitch and corpses.

                “What did you do to him!?” Tooth shrieks, the ice, now working its way up her thighs the only thing keeping her in place.

                “I gave the poor boy what he wanted, isn’t that right?”

                Jack smiles up at him.

                “Now, I think that’s enough for today, how about we go home? You must be tired?”

                “Whatever you want, my liege.”

                “You’ll be the finest prince I could have ever hoped to create, you know that.”

                The two conversed as if they were the only ones left in the wasteland.

                And all too soon, they were gone, taking the snowfall and the dark away with them.

                With their owner’s magic no longer feeding them, the ice snaps and cracks as they struggle, though all fight is gone out of them.

                What was left to do?

 

                Kneeling down before the throne, Jack has never, ever felt as in tune with the world as he did at this moment.

                The push of the cold, the pull of the shadows.

                A heartbeat.

                _Together the world will be Pitch Black._

_And Jack Frost to._

                As long as he was with him, he didn’t care what the world had in store for them.

 

                “We need to do something, anything. He wouldn’t stand for this if it happened to any of us.” Bunny runs his hands over his face as he paces in-front of the fireplace. The only voice breaking the silence that hangs over the room.

                “It’s not that simple, Bunny. Fearlings, no-one knows how to reverse,” North’s voice matches his years.

                Tooth just sits, hands clasped tightly in her lap, head bowed.

                “So is that it? Pitch has him and we’re going to leave it at that?” He turns and snarls at the large man.

                Sandy waves his arms, trying to draw attention to himself.

                North draws it like a beacon as he stands upright, bringing himself chest to chest with the six-foot Easter Bunny.

                “Well what do you suggest we do?” Eyes as cold as the tundra that surrounds the workshop.

                “Hope, for one.”

                Sandy breaks the two apart with a well-aimed, empty mug that shatters between them.

                All eyes are on the Sandman.

                Symbols flashing above his head, the others’ widen their eyes in realisation.

                “You’re right, Sandy. That just might work. He did have quite the aversion to it last time, not to mention when you tried to put him under.”

                “I’ll have yeti’s get room ready. If  we draw Pitch’s attention elsewhere, we’ll have our best shot.”

                “Would it hurt though? Just that sprinkle from before, it was like he was being burned.” Tooth whispers, voice broken.

                “It’s all we have, Tooth. We have to try.” Bunny places a hand on her small, trembling shoulder.

                Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

 

                He was disoriented.

                There was so much fear, it was overwhelming. He could all but stop himself from salivating.

                Everything was fine, better than fine.

                He had Pitch and Pitch had him.

                They were together, ‘for always and forever’ as his king had whispered into his ear.

                If that wwas the case though, why was the dark so bland.

                Blank.

                Something had gone wrong.

                What had happened?

                Thinking back he remembered being hungry.

                Cold.

                Laughter.

                Him.

                Nothing out of place.

                What had changed?

                What was different.

                Colour.

                Noise.

                And light.

                The light that burnt and made his chest ache.

                There was so much of it, he couldn’t get to Pitch.

                He remembered reaching out, pleading.

                They were going to take him away.

                He was going to be alone again.

                Why were they doing this?

                Didn’t they know that he belonged to Pitch?

                He’d make them pay.

                For all the hurt they had inflicted.

                They were going to pay.

 

                It had taken them a lot of work, but finally they had gotten Jack by himself.

                Yes, their methods were sneaky, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

                They stand back in the room where the lights fend off any shadow that dare braves it.

                Jack is bound once more to the bed, but the wards on the shackles keeping his hands and feet bound stop the frost from spouting.

                It doesn’t stop him from trying.

                Since the turning, the black mark that had started at the base of his head had spread across his throat and most of his chest, but by keeping him in this room, away from the dark, the progression of it had ceased.

                Tooth couldn’t watch this anymore, leaving the room in a flurry of feathers and tears.

                “Is this really the only way? It doesn’t seem right…”

                Bunny was never happy with the plan, but what’s done is done.

                They couldn’t afford to have Pitch _and_ a fearling prince to worry about.

                “None of us like this, Bunny, but it needs to be done. Sandy.”

                Sandy reluctantly takes his cue, summoning a small handful of golden dream sand into the palm of his hand.

                The tendril twists and turns with a warm golden light.

                Jacks muffled cries reach new volumes, but at least the gag puts a damper on it.

                It doesn’t do much to stop the shrieking as the sand makes contact with his skin, doing its best to dispel the shadows that have taken hold.

                Bunny leaves soon after.

               

               He falls, searching through the heat and the pain for someone.

               Anyone.

               It’s bright and it hurts and he’s so, so alone.

               He doesn’t want to be alone.

               Isn’t that what he was promised?           


End file.
